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Gaybdl: The Redneck


Otto Van Raunchenhausen

Copyright 2016

Author's note: All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

Use of an image of a model in this ebook or in advertisements for it does not suggest that the model is depicted in the work presented here, nor that the model participates in, endorses, condones or approves of the thoughts or behavior described in this ebook.

Nate came home to find a note attached to his front door. He was tired -- he had just driven home from his old friend Mitchell's house -- and didn't really want to deal with any problems. He figured the note was probably from his neighbor, a mousy old man who sometimes needed help with stuff around the house.

But that wasn't it, Nate would have recognized the handwriting. This was a nearly illegible scrawl that he struggled to interpret at all. Finally he figured it out: come to Dixie Arms tp and yr mind will be blown.

Who leaves notes anymore? Nate wondered to himself. I mean, just text me. But he was intensely curious about who this might be from. The Dixie Arms Trailer Park was just down the road from Nate's house, that must be where the note wanted him to go.

But Nate wasn't sure he should. That was a rough place. Someone had been murdered there last year, and the police were there nearly every weekend for various reasons. It was home to bikers, drug dealers and drifters.

Nate couldn't resist checking it out. His curiosity got the best of him, and he hurried off to see what was waiting for him there.

He had only ever been inside the Dixie Arms Trailer Park one time, just about two months ago. Nate's then-boyfriend Charles had wanted to buy some meth from his dealer -- who went by the name Meck -- and he lived there. So Nate had accompanied him.

Nate dumped Charles last week, not because of his meth habit though that didn't help. He just felt they weren't working out together anymore. Nate had found himself dreading the time he spent with Charles, and that, he thought, was no way to live.

The trailer park was just a spit of dirt with a bunch of trailers parked on it. There was an improvised dirt road that led in, and sitting on either side of that were a pair of bikers. They growled at Nate when he parked outside of the park and walked in.

"Hi," he said, blushing as he passed them. Charles had insulted them, said something like suck my dick, faggots as he walked in. But Nate was too nice to say anything like that to a pair of strangers, especially two burly, dark-eyed bikers who glared at him as though they might like to eat him, given an opportunity.

"Who you here to see, boy?"


"Uh... Meck," Nate said. It hadn't really occurred to him until right now that Meck was the only person in the park whom he had ever met. Who else would have sent the note? At the very least, he thought, telling the bikers he was here to see Meck would get him in the park, at which point whoever wanted him here would come see him.

They nodded and Nate entered. His heart pounded. Meck lived in a trailer at the far end of the park. Gaunt-faced men with tattooed limbs and shirtless chests stared at Nate as though they had never seen a human being before. A fat woman with a snot bubble beneath her nose stood stark-naked, dancing silently by herself. A dog lay on the ground, either unconscious or possibly dead, Nate tried not to think about it.

Before he got to Meck's trailer, however, the door to a different trailer opened up and Meck stepped out. Inside, Nate caught a glimpse of scientific equipment, bubbling pots and a whiff of chemicals, no personal belongings visible -- that trailer was clearly a meth lab.

"Nate. Nathaniel. Nathan. Nathaniel. Nate. You're Nate. Gay Nate. Silly queer Nate," Meck said. He was jittery and nervous, with drawl for days. Nate could tell at a glance that Meck wanted to smoke meth. It must have been a long time for him. Meck laughed at nothing in particular. "I'm glad you're here. You got my note?"

"Yeah. That was from you, huh? I thought as much-"

"Did I forget to sign it?"

"Yeah," Nate said. "It was unsigned."

Meck stopped as he was about to open the door to his own trailer. He choked back tears, then fell to the ground and wept. Nate looked around, but all he saw was that fat, naked women, swaying to unheard music. What made Meck cry? He had no idea.

"Uh, Meck?"

He stood up and wiped away his tears. "I didn't mean to leave it unsigned. I apologize. I am so sorry-"

"Okay, Meck, relax," Nate said. "Not a big deal." He followed Meck into the trailer. Why did I come here? What could I possibly get out of this? Meth, which I don't even do? Even that seemed unlikely, since Meck seemed to be jonesing for a hit, he presumably was all out of meth at the moment. That was probably why he had been in the lab just a moment ago.

The trailer was filthy. Clothes were scattered all over the floor, and it stank of body odor. It was a bit sexy to Nate, who had always thought Meck was sexy in his own raunchy way. He was tall and lean-muscled, like he worked out a lot but barely ate so his muscles were too big for his limbs. He was inked with tattoos all over, including an American flag above his bellybutton, a REDNECK LIFE tattoo over his heart and a man sodomizing a Texas flag on his bicep.

"I invited you here because I want something... Charlie is... I don't want Charlie. I know him too much. He'll keep asking me about it, you get me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about yet."

"Yeah, you get me. We're on the same wavelength, Nate," Meck said. "I know what you're into. Charlie told me."

"Charles wasn't supposed to tell you," Nate said. Charles hated being called Charlie.

"Well Charlie did and boy am I glad. You wanna shoot some heroin?"

"Uh... no."

"Suit yourself," Meck said. He laughed nervously and rubbed his chin. He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, then held onto it and promptly forgot about it. He let it burn there on his leg -- even though it should have been burning him, he didn't seem to notice.

"Why did you want me to come over here? You said you were going to blow my mind. I don't do drugs. I don't smoke meth. That was Charles' deal," Nate said.

"I sold all my meth. I'll have some more in a couple hours," Meck said. He paused. "You want some? I'll give you a good deal." He seemed to have genuinely forgotten that Nate declined just a few seconds ago.

"No, thank you," Nate said with a sigh. It was foolish to come here. He very nearly left, but Meck was shirtless and just sexy enough that Nate wanted to stay. He thought he might be able to suck Meck off. Nate wasn't one of those gay men whose raison d'ĂȘtre was to service raunchy straight machos, but he didn't turn it down when the situation arose.

Nate's preference -- which it seemed Charles had told Meck about -- was diapers. Nate loved slipping into a diaper and letting some daddy fuck him hard. He was a bottom by nature, but he recently discovered a talent for topping. Meck, he thought, seemed like the kind of redneck who would be fine with letting Nate suck him off.

"Well..." Meck took a deep breath like he was scared to continue speaking. "I ain't had a good childhood, Nate-thaniel." He said both Nate and Nathaniel at the same time, but didn't seem to notice his mistake. "My mama was a prostitute."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"I think I'm a sex addict too. And a meth addict. And heroin. And cigarettes. And gambling," he said. He wiped a tear away. "I'm just made up entirely of addiction."


"So I think I need a new daddy. Or not a new daddy, I never had one the first time around. I need a daddy," he said.

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